


Just One

by reisekrispies



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reisekrispies/pseuds/reisekrispies
Summary: "Who died?"She didn't really want an answer to her question, and she definitely didn't want that answer. Now her world has flipped and she doesn't know what to do.Set during Amelia and Owen's conversation in 11x22. Spoilers for a major character death.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Just One

_“Who died?”_

_“Amelia…”_

__

_"I know the face. I’ve been here before. Everyone thinks they are the first person in the world to ever look at a human being like that, but… It’s always the same face. Who is dead?"_

_“Derek.”  
_

***

She replays that moment in her head, over and over, as she sits surrounded by people yet very much alone. The adrenaline from completing her surgery, Owen appearing, Torres and Edwards leaving, the conversation.

_" It’s Derek." _

She’d felt her blood run cold then, and darkness began hovering at the edges of her brain. Somewhere in her mind she could hear gunshots, the thump of a body, the high-pitched screaming of a child, a voice whispering to _“shut up, **shut up**.”_

She could still see Owen’s lips moving but his words were slow and thick; distorted, like they were underwater. His appearance became blurred, shifting in and out of focus, and she became distinctly aware of her own heart beating.

_" MVC…help…" _

_"I don’t need the details. Dead is dead,"_ she snapped harshly, surprised at how strong and clear her words were spoken.

Dead. A man’s body falling, and a boy - older than her, but still a child himself – grabbing her roughly, shoving a hand over her mouth, holding her tight as she whimpered and cried. Only this time when the body hit the ground she saw her brother. Broken, bloodied, lifeless, empty. Tires screeching, sirens wailing. Her brother, dead on the ground. Dead.

_" Dead is dead." _

A gunshot. A car crash. An overdose. A baby born without his brain. They were all dead. They were all gone. Derek was gone. She could hear Owen apologising, wishing he could do something, but she couldn’t listen to him anymore, this man who had just turned her world upside down with two simple words.

_"Thank you. For telling me,"_ she interrupted whatever he was going to say, taking a step back as he moved to hug her. If he touched her she would crumble, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to pick herself back up. The blackness was still creeping at the borders of her mind, threatening to overcome her.

She rejected Owen’s offers of help, reminding him she was no stranger to the people she loved dying. She’s been here before: this situation, the hollow words, the feeling she was suffocating, the uncertainty she would ever recover.

_"It’s not a big deal,"_ she tries to sound convincing, whether for him or for herself she doesn’t know. Not that she fools either of them anyway.

She’s going to cry. She can feel tears beginning to sting her eyes, so she shrugs her shoulders, forces a smile on her face and turns back to the long metal sinks, unable to look at the devastated expression adorning Owen’s face.

She scrubs her hands, her arms, methodically, wordlessly talking herself through every step in an effort not to disintegrate into a million pieces right there and then. She glances up, sees Edwards crying and Callie rubbing her arms in an effort to soothe her.

_‘What right do they have to feel sad?’ she thinks. ‘What right do any of them have? He was **my** brother.’_

Was. It hits her like a punch in the gut, quick and sudden, and she gasps, her knees giving in slightly. Owen moves to catch her but she pushes him back, mumbling a _"sorry"_ as she turns and stumbles out the door, tearing off her gown in the process.

She runs. She doesn’t know where to but she can feel herself beginning to break, so she runs. Nobody stops her, nobody chases after her, she’s not sure anybody actually **sees** her and soon she’s outside. The change in air slows her, clears her brain enough for her to make a decision on where she needs to go.

The place is quiet as is usual for a weekday afternoon – a few people chatting, playing pool, watching the TV that’s humming in the corner – but nobody she recognizes. Good. She slides into a seat, signals the guy behind the counter. She can deal with money later, she decides.

She needs this. She deserves this. She doesn’t care. Nobody would care, except Derek and he’s dead. He’s dead and he’s gone and he’s not here to care about her.

_‘Just one,’_ she rationalizes.

_‘Just one,'_ as she downs her glass of tequila.

_‘Just one,’_ even as another is placed in front of her.

**Author's Note:**

> So the bits where Amelia is talking about gunshots and bodies falling etc are supposed to be flashbacks. Not sure if it came across that way or if it was just confusing. So as Owen is talking she is kind of zoned out into her memories. Not sure if I'm going to continue this into an Amelia-centric series or just leave it as a one-shot :)


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